


In Love

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Loyalty [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, Interspecies, M/M, Multiple Partners, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By DiamondSam tries to deal with his jealousy and anger in the wake of Frodo's night with Aragorn. Ch. Two of Tale Two of series Of Hobbits and Men.
Relationships: Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Sam Gamgee, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Loyalty [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819990
Kudos: 1
Collections: Least Expected





	In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Tolkien (sob!); I make no monetary profit from this but give me feedback and I'm a happy lass.  
> Story Notes: Slight warning; Sam's dark side; voyeurism.

The sun had set, but the wind continued to howl when Strider called for the company to halt. They ate quickly with little talk--except for Pippin who had suddenly noticed the tomatoes were gone already--Sam sighed, wondering if Merry would remind Master Pip it was _he_ who had polished most of them off the first day.

Merry did, and sparked off something almost like an argument between them. Sam muttered about thick-headed Tooks and Brandybucks low under his breath, knowing they'd never hear him over the wind and their own words. He went to set out the bedroll by the fire for himself and Frodo, his belly nagging at him that supper hadn't been nearly to its standards.

"Expect I'll be changing belt sizes again soon," he spoke aloud as he got the bedding to his liking, standing over it to inspect the ground for nasty rocks or burrs. He stiffened at a light touch at his back.

"You look wonderful to me with or without your proper girth," Frodo's voice was low and thick with need, his lips leaving a moist trail along the outer shell of Sam's ear which rapidly cooled in the breeze, sending shivers prickling through his skin. Sam groaned and clutched Frodo's hand where it rested on his shoulder.

"Sir, the others . . ." Frodo's other hand had wrapped around his waist and was snaking downwards, rubbing the soft flesh of his belly, down his hips to his groin. Luckily their backs were to the rest of camp--probably all that could be seen was an over-exuberant hug from Frodo, but that's certainly not what Sam felt. Blood rushed to follow the path of Frodo's hands; Sam trembled as his member swelled and hardened against Frodo's touch. With supreme effort, he opened his eyes to glance over at the rest of the camp now unpacking and rolling out their bedding; Pippin was ogling them with astonishment but Merry was dragging him aside, trying to distract him. The others were obviously trying very hard not to look, keeping their heads down. Sam felt his face grow hot. Oh, what his Gaffer would say . . . He struggled to step away from Frodo, but Frodo held tight, almost desperately.

"Let them see. I want to show everyone just what you mean to me. But I agree some privacy would be best. Come to bed. Please, Sam." Frodo released him with a quick peck to the cheek, then he was sliding under the blankets, lying with his back to the fire and the rest of camp, his eyes watching Sam expectantly, worriedly

Sam dropped down to his knees by the bedroll, his ears roaring with the hot blood coursing through his veins now, eyes wandering over to check the others again. Merry and Pippin had settled together with Aragorn nearby, apparently already asleep. Gandalf and Legolas were off away from the fire, quietly conversing in some elven tongue. Gimli was already snoring, his back against a tree. And Boromir had the watch; he sat near the fire, poking it with a long stick, intent on the glowing point. Suddenly his eyes shifted to Sam. Sam flushed and flung himself down next to Frodo, strangely flustered and enticed at the same time.

The thought that the Man might be watching was a rigid tension in Sam's spine as his master slid his arm under him--Sam gasped. Somehow in the short space of time before he had come to join him, Frodo had unbuttoned his weskit and shirt and lowered his breeches; under the thick blanket the heat of naked flesh against him made him forget the wind, the cold, Boromir's eyes--everything.

Frodo's mouth ran burning kisses down the nape of Sam's neck; he arched in aching need as Frodo's small hands rose to unfasten his clothing, then they were rubbing their bare chests together. His nipples hardened at the occasional brush of cold air sneaking past the warm cocoon of blanket and bodies.

"You looked so depressed back there walking with Bill. I wanted to walk with you, but Gandalf thought it best I stay at the lead with Aragorn," Frodo whispered as his hands went to Sam's bared flesh, running feather light touches across his chest, down his stomach, up the insides of his thighs. Sam focused on the beautiful look of want on Frodo's face, the way his eyes became almost violet, the sheen of sweat on his brow--warm, he was warm now, he was complete for a moment, despite his anger.

"Ain't important, sir--I understand. You know I've already forgiven you," Sam whispered back, his eyelids dropping, letting Frodo pleasure him, letting him warm away the hurt, the jealousy, the niggling doubts that he'd never be enough. He thrust as Frodo's hand closed on him, pulling in slow sweet strokes. His own hands reached for Frodo.

Frodo bucked in his grasp, moaning, and Sam couldn't help it. He opened his eyes to see--was Boromir watching? For some reason the idea of the others didn't bother him as much, though it was certainly possible--nay, probable--they'd heard as well. He had to wonder what Pip was making of all this if he was still awake. But Boromir, now, somehow he shouldn't be listening. Strider already knew the sounds Frodo made. Another Man should not know it as well

Sure enough, Boromir was watching; he quickly turned away once he realized Sam was watching him as well, wrapping his cloak over his lap and shifting his seat to turn away.

Sam kept his glare on the Man as his climax neared, even as Frodo kissed him deeply, plunging his sweet tongue in and mewling with pleasure as Sam entered him with one thick finger as he stroked him with the other hand. Frodo shuddered, throwing his head back and biting his lip to keep from crying out as he came, hot and wet in Sam's hand and against his belly.

Sam felt his balls tighten, the exquisite pressure at the base of his spine, but even as he hovered on the edge he saw Boromir glance back, saw a flush of lust in his eyes. For one instant it was Boromir's hands on him.

He came.

Hissing as waves of pleasure crashed over him, Sam clung to Frodo hating himself, hating Boromir, and most of all hating the fact that no matter what, he simply couldn't hate the one who had originally hurt him.

"I love you," he said, pulling Frodo close, burying his head against his master's shoulder to black out the darkness, the hurt. He felt tears escape the corner of his eyes to fall in Frodo's hair as Frodo returned the embrace, his slender arms holding Sam's larger frame tight, his kiss-stained lips brushing his brow.

"I love you too. But you've become distant. I don't know what to do, Sam. I don't know how to make you forgive me. I know you haven't." His words were gentle, without anger, only soft with regret. Sam choked on a sob, huddling against Frodo. Truly he didn't deserve such a one.

"I'm trying, sir, I really am trying. I understand--I just can't seem to get a hold of my feelings," Sam murmured into Frodo's chest, holding tight. He heard the sound of Gandalf and Legolas as they returned to their bedrolls, and a crackle as Boromir added a fresh log to the fire.

When it was quiet once more, he heard Frodo sigh, rubbing his back in slow circles. "Just rest, Sam. Don't try so hard. _Be_ angry with me if you need to be. I want your happiness too, you know."

"But--" Useless to try to explain how impossible that was, but Sam couldn't help retorting.

"But what?"

"Nothing, sir." No, he couldn't do it. He could never do anything to hurt Frodo, to risk losing him. Might as well ask him to fly.

"I'm not your 'sir' in this, you know, Sam."

Yes you are, Sam thought, but said nothing. You'll always be my 'sir'. You are everything.

He drifted off to sleep with that thought, still clinging tight to his love.

* * *


End file.
